Literature and Poetry Reviews, Home of the Virtual Poetry Circle
Many of us bloggers and readers spend a lot of time traveling social media sharing books we find and adding new books to our wish lists and tbr piles. I’ve signed up for GoodReads, LibraryThing, and Pinterest to manage my lists, but Riffle, an app for Facebook users, allows us not only to have shelves of recommendations for our followers, but also visual covers of those books just like Pinterest.
If you’d like to check it out, click on the logo at the top to gain access — TODAY Only!
Judging a Book by Its Lover by Lauren Leto is a guide to the mind of readers everywhere, and it offers some great tips on how to fake it for readers who may not have read some contemporary or classic authors that everyone else has been. Leto is like many of us in that she says, “Considering yourself a serious reader doesn’t mean you can’t read light books. Loving to read means you sometimes like to turn your head off. Reading is not about being able to recite passages from Camus by memory. Loving young adult novels well past adolescence isn’t a sign of stunted maturity or intelligence. The most important thing about reading is not the level of sophistication of the books on your shelf. There is no prerequisite reading regimen for being a bookworm” (page 8). To that end, she discloses that she’s likely to be found with the latest Janet Evanovich in her hand when she has to fly anywhere.
The initial confessions read like that of any bookworm, with the boxes and boxes of books moved from apartment to apartment and from makeshift bookshelf to re-purposed material made into a bookshelf — in her case, a couple of old ladders (page 13). Leto even offers a funny little bit about changing the readers’ mascot from a worm to a cat, but one of the most ironic reasons in the book is because cats hold grudges (page 63) — like many do against James Frey from A Million Little Pieces, who offers a witty quote about Leto’s book on the cover.
Through a series of chapters of advice on how to fake having read a particular book, using vague statements and comparisons to popular movies and other writers you may have read, Leto has created an unapologetic homage to reading as entertainment, education, enjoyment, escapism, and understanding. She even includes a chapter on rules for the book club, which means talking about book club with others not in your club or about the books you are reading in the club as well as how best to end a disagreement over something that happens in one of the books read by the group. Her observations on members of a book club and their roles from the leader to the quiet (usually girl) member are in line with many readers’ experiences, including those who might even fit those character types in one group or another.
Some of the best aspects of this book are the snarky comments about authors and readers of certain authors, like those who adore Chuck Palahniuk are boys who cannot read and those who love Chuck Klosterman are boys who don’t read. Leto’s comments about the “Literati,” a chapter with an alternate title of “Why Ernest Hemingway Once Told John Updike Literary New York Is a Bottle Full of Tapeworms Trying to Feed on Each Other,” is hilarious and a warning for those would-be writers out there. Judging a Book by Its Lover by Lauren Leto is not really about judging anyone, but it is about having fun with books and reading, making connections even with strangers, and finding happiness in a bent page — to paraphrase her (page 245).
About the Author:
Lauren Leto dropped out of law school to start the popular humor blog “Texts from Last Night.” She co-authored the book Texts from Last Night: All the Texts No One Remembers Sending. She lives in Brooklyn.
This is my 78th book for the New Authors Reading Challenge in 2012.
Mailbox Mondays (click the icon to check out the new blog) has gone on tour since Marcia at A Girl and Her Books, formerly The Printed Page passed the torch. This month’s host is the Mailbox Monday blog.
The meme allows bloggers to share what books they receive in the mail or through other means over the past week.
Just be warned that these posts can increase your TBR piles and wish lists.
Here’s what I received:
1. Not Young, Still Restless by Jeanne Cooper and Lindsay Harrison for review from HarperCollins.
2. The Last Summer by Judith Kinghorn from Penguin for review in December.
What did you receive?
Welcome to the 173rd Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.
Also, sign up for the 2012 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please visit the stops on the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.
Today, we have a poem from John Amen and Daniel Y. Harris’ The New Arcana. The collection “is a multigenre extravaganza featuring verse, fiction, mock journalism and academic writing, drama, and art. Both referencing and transcending various literary precedents, the book is a pronouncement for the 21st Century, an exploration of and commentary on the fast-paced and mercurial nature of life in the 2000s”:
From Section Four: I (page 85)
I have built a panic room in order to insulate myself
from all random reminders
of the inevitable indignities to come.
I play hopscotch;
I count marbles in the darkness.
Give me chalk and geometric proofs,
barely legible crossword puzzles,
medical reports printed in red: I'll prove my loyalty,
my commitment to the American dream,
by skipping through perturbations with dismissive
hilarity -- the very locus of a psychic compost
filled with rotting onions.
What do you think?
Everyday Writing: Tips and Prompts to Fit Your Regularly Scheduled Life by Midge Raymond is a slim volume with purpose — to get those writers back to the words on the page. Raymond is a busy woman, like most writers, and she holds a full-time job in addition to writing. Her advice is on point and should be taken to heart — by me especially. The book is broken down into two main sections — tips on how to become a writer and stay in that mode and a series of writing prompts broken down my expected writing duration.
I’ve got a semi-unconventional review today. This book offers me more motivation than ever. With the toddler running around and the full-time job, plus the additional stress I’ve been under lately, I need a good kick in the butt to get me back to writing.
What I loved about Raymond’s book was her no-nonsense advice and her anecdotes about her own struggles with writing. She even shares some of the best moments she’s experienced when she was procrastinating. One major point that book bloggers already know, especially in this time of Twitter and other social media, that we need to disconnect from the Internet. My book is overflowing with post-it tabs, but here are a couple of my favorite passages:
“Being an Everyday Writer is not about putting daily words on a page but about seeing the world as a writer and recognizing the myriad ways in which your everyday life informs your work. And this, in turn, will put words on the page.” (page 2)
“Writing exercises can help our writing in ways we don’t know until we do them. They can, for instance, allow our minds to retreat from the puzzle of a current project and wander a bit, perhaps leading us back to the puzzle from a different angle and getting us closer to a solution.” (page 6)
Some of her practical advice includes creating a schedule that works for you with your work and childcare schedule and that it doesn’t have to be every day. Additionally, you have to remain open to revising the schedule and making sure that others in your life take your writing time as seriously as you do. Writers also need to set bigger goals and break that down into more manageable goals, and these goals should be reassessed at least quarterly to determine how much progress has been made. Another cool tool in the book is Raymond’s checklist for those writers who think they’ve finished a piece to make sure they’ve covered all the bases, including whether every scene is necessary and whether the point of view is consistent.
Everyday Writing: Tips and Prompts to Fit Your Regularly Scheduled Life by Midge Raymond is a slim book, just what writers need — practical advice, but not lengthy practical advice that causes them to procrastinate about their projects. Raymond’s writing style as engaging as her advice, and the writing prompts can be used for any project. What she offers most is the ability for writers to be flexible and not beat themselves up about it so long as they are meeting their own goals.
About the Author:
Midge Raymond’s short-story collection, Forgetting English, received the Spokane Prize for Short Fiction. Her stories have appeared in TriQuarterly, American Literary Review, Indiana Review, North American Review, Bellevue Literary Review, the Los Angeles Times magazine, and many other publications. Her work has received several Pushcart Prize nominations and received an Artist Trust/Washington State Arts Commission Fellowship.
Midge taught communication writing at Boston University for six years, and she has taught creative writing at Boston’s Grub Street Writers and Seattle’s Richard Hugo House. While living in Southern California, she held writing workshops and seminars at San Diego Writers, Ink, where she also served as vice president of the board of directors.
Midge lives in the Pacific Northwest, where she is co-founder of the boutique publisher Ashland Creek Press.
If you’re anything like me and you’re a fan of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, you just love the oodles of fan fiction, spinoffs, and continuations that are flooding the market and feature Mr. Darcy . . . and of course the Bennets. There also are the modern day retellings as well that keep me coming back for more, and Victoria Connelly, author of A Weekend with Mr. Darcy, is one author that doesn’t seem to disappoint with her renditions.
Her current novella, Christmas with Mr. Darcy, is a sequel to her Austen Addicts Trilogy (A Weekend with Mr Darcy, Dreaming of Mr Darcy, and Mr Darcy Forever) in which characters from the trilogy meet again at Purley Hall in Hampshire for a special Jane Austen Conference. But when a first edition of Pride and Prejudice goes missing, there is only one thing for them all to do . . . find out where it has gone.
Connelly has a quick wit and some great characters, who always need a little extra help from Austen to get down the romantic path. I’m sure this novella, first available on Kindle, will be no exception.
Today, she’s offered my readers and exclusive excerpt from the novella to whet your appetites, but first a note from the author:
I have always wanted to write a Christmas book and, this time last year, I had the idea for Christmas with Mr Darcy. All the main characters from my Austen Addicts Trilogy would come together when they attend a very special Jane Austen conference at Purley Hall in Hampshire – the setting of A Weekend with Mr Darcy. Throw in a badly behaved lost brother, a marriage proposal, and a missing first edition of Pride and Prejudice and the stage is set for a fun-filled festive season!
I really hope you enjoy finding out what happened next to my characters. It might be a little early for me to wish you all a Merry Christmas but I have to confess that writing this novella made me want to unpack all of our glittery baubles and start decorating our home!
Thanks, Victoria. We hope that you enjoy your holidays. And now the excerpt from Christmas with Mr. Darcy:
Robyn Love Harcourt was writing the last of her Christmas cards. She’d left it horribly late this year but she’d been so busy organising the Christmas conference with Dame Pamela that her own private little Christmas had been put on hold. Still, it had all been such enormous fun. She’d been working happily as Dame Pamela’s PA since accepting the job offer after her first weekend at Purley and had fallen into the new role as if she’d been performing it her whole life.
Together, they had pored over hundreds of magazines and websites for inspiration for the Christmas conference and, Robyn couldn’t help thinking with a laugh, perhaps they’d spent a little too much time discussing colour schemes.
“Is pink and purple a bit too much?” Dame Pamela had asked at one point, having found a company that sold pink glitter-ball baubles.
Robyn had been swept along by the idea of Purley Hall decked out in romantic shades of pink and lustrous shades of purple but had then come back down to earth.
“I think we’d better keep things traditional,” she’d said at last, secretly craving the pink baubles they’d discovered. Perhaps Dan would let her decorate their own tree with them. She could just imagine how pretty Horseshoe Cottage would look. She’d already secretly purchased a couple of gingerbread garlands and two ropes of multi-coloured fairy lights which baby Cassie had loved when Robyn had switched them on.
Once again, Robyn felt the warm glow of pride when she thought about her little girl. She still couldn’t believe how her life had changed since coming to the Jane Austen Conference. She’d fallen madly in love with her host’s younger brother, Dan Harcourt, and she couldn’t believe that he’d returned her feelings. It had all been such a whirlwind. She’d given up her job in North Yorkshire and had driven herself and her hens all the way down to Hampshire to start her new life. She smiled as she remembered that dreadful journey with Lizzie, Lydia, Mrs Bennet, Lady Catherine, Miss Bingley and Wickham the cockerel. Named after characters from Pride and Prejudice, Robyn had since added three ex-factory hens to her flock: Elinor, Marianne and Emma. They’d arrived at Horseshoe Cottage with pale combs and threadbare breasts but they had embraced their new free-range life and had bloomed into beautiful birds.
Robyn would often laugh with Dan at the life they’d created for themselves. There were dogs, horses, hens and a baby. It was permanent chaos but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Past reviews:
The Help by Kathryn Stockett, which was my book club’s October selection, has been celebrated and made into a movie already. Aibileen, Minny, and Skeeter share the narration for the 1960s segregated Jackson, Mississippi, as the lines blur between the races and to social classes. While Skeeter’s social class is not as pure as it seems, the Black maids are struggling to make ends meet and hold their tongues even as others are engaged in sit-ins at the local Woolworth’s and marches. Stockett carefully illustrates the social and color lines in the South, while also paying careful attention to the harsh realities of Black maids in white households. This is not just a story about Black maids, but also about where stigma comes from, how it is perpetuated, and how it can be overcome.
“And I know there are plenty of other ‘colored’ things I could do besides telling my stories or going to Shirley Boon’s meetings — the mass meetings in town, the marches in Birmingham, the voting rallies upstate. But truth is, I don’t care that much about voting. I don’t care about eating at a counter with white people. What I care about is, if in ten years, a white lady will call my girls dirty and accuse them of stealing the silver.” (page 256)
Stockett has created a novel that gets readers thinking about their own environment and what they tolerate on a daily basis, even though they do not agree with certain things that happen or continue to be spoken in anger or prejudice toward others. Like she notes in her “Too Little, Too Late” essay at the back of the paperback, no one in her white family who had a Black maid even thought about asking the maid what it was like to be Black in the deep south. How many things that go on daily do we disagree with and dislike, but allow to happen without so much as a criticism or objection?
On one hand, readers are introduced to the Black maids and the prejudice they put up with from their white employers, and on the other hand, Stockett introduces Skeeter, a young woman returned from college to find that she is vastly different from her childhood friends, Hilly and Elizabeth. While the parallel is lightly drawn and clearly not the same kind of prejudice on both sides, it does raise the question about what it means to create groups within a larger society to the exclusion of others. Both avenues lead to great isolation and emotional pain, but the consequences of speaking out against that oppression are potentially more violent and devastating for the maids than for Skeeter.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett provides a balanced look at the love and disdain in the relationship between white women and families and Black maids, but it also tends to play it safer than one would expect given the volatile time period being discussed. Yes, there are occasions of devastating tragedy, spousal abuse, and hints of other violent behavior, but truly the focus is less on the consequences of speaking out and more on the ties that bind each group to one another. Stockett has chosen to show the complex relationships between these women given the societal constructs that constrain their actions and behaviors, even if they would wish it not so.
About the Author:
Kathryn Stockett was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi. After graduating from the University of Alabama with a degree in English and Creative Writing, she moved to New York City where she worked in magazine publishing and marketing for nine years. She currently lives in Atlanta with her family. The Help is her first novel.
This is my 77th book for the New Authors Reading Challenge in 2012.
What the Eclectic Bookworms Thought (Beware of Spoilers):
Overall, we all enjoyed The Help and determined that it accurately portrayed the South, particularly the conflicted emotions of the Black maids and the children they raised. It also demonstrated the poor logic that many white families used to determine what Blacks were good enough to do for them, but not good enough to share with. For instance, Blacks cannot use the same bathrooms as whites because they are diseased, but at the same time, those maids can cook their families’ food and raise their children.
The group seemed split about which character they liked best, with some of us in favor of Minny, while others liked Skeeter and Aibileen best. One of our female members said that Aibileen’s voice was the most balanced, and that’s why she liked her best, while our youngest member said that she enjoyed Skeeter best because she was an aspiring writer. Personally, Minny’s kick ass attitude and yet vulnerability when it came to her husband and children made her both frightening and endearing — as well as a little bit vulnerable.
The club also discussed whether we would go as far as Minny to get revenge on Hilly, with only a few of saying that we would and a couple of us indicating we would have gone further. At one point the discussion of slavery came up and whether the maids would have considered themselves still slaves or something more than that, but we all seemed to be on the fence about that question. A discussion of other cultures’ use of slavery and how slaves could earn their way out was also mentioned, though none of us had any concrete sources on hand to discuss that too much in depth.
Other topics touched upon during the discussion include the friendship dynamics in Hilly’s group and how most of the women were subservient to Hilly and her approval, while others like Skeeter seemed to see that cow-towing to Hilly was wrong as well as how Minny and her family seemed to get by more easily than Aibileen who was on her own without any children. We all enjoyed the book, though some of us would have preferred less about Stuart and Skeeter’s relationship and that other sections were trimmed down. I personally enjoyed the additional insight into Skeeter and Stuart’s relationship after having watched the movie and found that part lacking in the film.
Things Your Dog Doesn’t Want You to Know by Hy Conrad and Jeff Johnson is a humorous collection of stories from 11 dogs who bare all. Not only do they divulge secrets about why those “pee” walks take so long, but they also enlighten dog walkers on the order that dogs should be taken out and why. There are hijinks from dogs eating shoes and eating even mores hoes when owners lock them in the shoe closet, and there are dogs giving parenting advice to owners about their own puppies.
Sarge was one of the funniest given that he was a narcotics dog and became addicted to the pot that the police had him sniffing out. He goes through several different jobs from junkyard dog to service dog. He has trouble holding down a job. Axelrod is another funny little dog who has a thing for herbs and incense given that there are herbal soaps in the bathroom, he thinks the herb garden outside is the perfect place to go potty since his owners seem to like the scent.
Conrad and Johnson have a firm grasp of the dog mindset and their seemingly erratic behavior from chasing cars to herding kids throughout the house. A book you can dip into in the waiting room for entertainment, follow only one dog’s story from beginning to end, or read cover to cover. Things Your Dog Doesn’t Want You to Know by Hy Conrad and Jeff Johnson is fun for dog owners, kids, those who love dogs, and anyone in between looking for a good chuckle.
About the Authors:
Best known for his work in mysteries, Hy Conrad was one of the original writers for the groundbreaking series, Monk, working on the show for all eight seasons, the final two as Co-Executive Producer. In a related project, Hy was Executive Producer and head writer of Little Monk, a series of short films featuring Adrian Monk as a ten-year-old. His latest TV work was as writer and Consulting Producer for White Collar.
Hy is also the author of hundreds of short stories and ten books of short whodunits, which have been sold around the world in fourteen languages. Hy’s first mystery novel series, Abel Adventures, will debut in 2012 with the publication of Rally ‘Round the Corpse. And his first full-length comedy/mystery play, Home Exchange, premiered at the Waterfront Playhouse in May 2012. He lives in Key West and Vermont with his partner and two miniature schnauzers.
Jeff Johnson spent most of his working life in advertising agencies, currently as General Manager of Cramer-Krasselt in New York City. He is the author of The Hourglass Solution: A Boomer’s Guide to the Rest of Your Life and co-authors (with Paula Forman) a national online advice column called Short Answers, which also appears in newspapers all along the east coast (from Massachusetts to Florida). Jeff lives in Vermont and Key West and is on the Board of Directors of the Waterfront Playhouse and the Florida Keys SPCA.
This is my 76th book for the New Authors Reading Challenge in 2012.
Mailbox Mondays (click the icon to check out the new blog) has gone on tour since Marcia at A Girl and Her Books, formerly The Printed Page passed the torch. This month’s host is the Mailbox Monday blog.
The meme allows bloggers to share what books they receive in the mail or through other means over the past week.
Just be warned that these posts can increase your TBR piles and wish lists.
Here’s what I received:
1. Guardians of Stone by Anita Clenney, unexpectedly from Amazon Publishing.
2. Thirty Days With My Father by Christal Presley, PhD, for review in November.
What did you receive?
Welcome to the 172nd Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.
Also, sign up for the 2012 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please visit the stops on the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.
Today we’ve got something a little different as part of Amy Durant’s blog tour for her book of poems, Out of True; She’ll be reading two of her poems via vlog, and has graciously included the text for both so you can follow along and have our regular discussion:
Don’t forget there will be a giveaway later in the post.
Downed Wires Last night you came to me and told me to stop looking. You were older than I remember you. You would be, of course; a lifetime has passed. I still recognized you, but barely. It was your eyes that clued me in, and the hesitancy with your hands when you speak. You still do that. You smelled of the lake where you used to spend your summers and of exhaustion, high, hot, electric. The air thrummed between us. I put out my hand and relished the shock. Our hair flickers like seaweed in the charged air. Let me go, you said. Let me go and you’ll be free. The sound of water lapped lazy in the background. I watched your eyes for a sign. Your words weight me like stones in my pockets. The boy you were runs past us in the background, calling over his shoulder. This is where I’ll be, when I go, he says. Find me. Come and find me. Not finding something doesn’t mean you’ve stopped looking. Let me go, you say, but you know I won’t. You grip my wrist in panic, a circlet of fire, and I burn to ash. Your eyes both judge me and thank me. I live in the intersection of this Venn diagram. I mindlessly trace the path like a labyrinth. My feet know the way. To walk outside would be madness. To walk outside would be to lose you. To walk outside would be to lose myself.
Pink Slip, Broken Hip It’s another world, the world of the unemployed. While you are all working, the elderly come out to play. They fill the roads with their huge Cadillacs, driving very slowly, their seats pushed as close to their leather-wrapped steering wheels as possible, peering myopically though their bleary windshields. They make wide turns, look confused when another car gets in their way. You are the interloper here. They clog the aisles of the grocery stores with their electric shopping carts, they take things off the shelves with care, comparing price per ounce. They complain loudly about cost increases and gather clacking and squawking around the half-off bakery table, clawing at bread rapidly going stale, at cupcakes with the frosting melting off at the edges. They eye you, mistrusting. They gather outside the library to share gossip, stories of the good old days, who has died, who has broken bird-like bones, who has moved to warmer climes, who has remarried with unlikely optimism. When you walk by, they hush, they gather close like bullies on the playground, they point at you with witchlike fingers and cast their curses. You are not one of them. You are too young, your hands do not bear liver spots, your back is as-yet unbowed. You do not belong. The streets are theirs, the stores, the sidewalks. You go about your day knowing you’re seeing behind the curtain. You go about your day knowing you’re seeing your own future. Someday, they will fold you into their ranks as seamless as death by drowning, and you will go forth, stooped, shaking, knowing the days belong to you; the days are yours, now, numbered, to spend as you watch your life run out like milk tipped and lost from a toddler’s cup.
What do you think?
About the Poet:
Amy Durant is a writer living in the Capital District of New York. She blogs frequently at her own site, Lucy’s Football, about far less serious things than this, and is lucky enough to write for Insatiable Booksluts about all things bookish. She is the artistic director for one of the many wonderful community theaters in her area and lives with a very cuddly but very spatially-impaired Siamese cat. Her book, Out of True, was published by Luna Station Press in August 2012. Follow her on Twitter.
For those interested in winning a paperback copy of Amy Durant’s book, just leave a comment by October 27, 2012 at 11:59PM EST.
Out of True by Amy Durant, blogger at Lucy’s Football, has a poignant dedication in the front: “To everyone who doesn’t quite fit: You do. You will. Keep going. You’re almost there.” And in many ways, this dedication sets the tone for the collection. There are a number of poems in the collection that talk about love and loss, but there also are those poems heavily focused on things and people that are just out of reach as the narrator continues to strive for the ultimate goal.
Durant has a frank style that not only clearly defines the poetic story, but also draws parallels from ancient myths and literature. In “SYZYGY,” in which the moon and sun fall in love but are separated by the horizon, but Durant allows the celestial bodies to not only communicate through the tides and other messages. The lines are written in the pattern of notes between married couples asking for the dishes to be washed and errands to be run. But there is an undercurrent of disappointment as the narrator postulates that the sun will not rise and the evening will not bring the moon — the promises made that cannot be kept, like those between busy married couples and others that are forgotten or intentionally made knowing that they cannot be kept.
From "What We Build What We Destroy" (Page 20-21) I like to build a fire; the ritual of it. Placing the small sticks, twisting the paper, tenting the larger logs. The flames licking around the edges, teasing, like a schoolgirl skipping along the edge of a playground; then the bite, the moment the fish takes the bait, the roaring upward, the rush, the suck of air. All eyes on the dance of the flames. I made this. This thing that can destroy: I made this.
Readers will find her interplay of imagery fun, and perseverance becomes a strong message throughout the collection no matter if the narrator must let go of a past love or strive for a goal. The cover ties the collection together with the stairway upward, signifying the struggle and the journey all at once with the light near the top of the stairs and the darkness below. In many ways, this image demonstrates how each of us has a darkness in our lives that we journey away from, but at the same time that it can be present in the most enveloping way. Particularly with the purposeful forgetting of high school memories in “Oubliette,” in which the narrator cannot catch up with those people she has forgotten even though the scars of what happened back then remain and are ever-present. There is a truth in the forgetting that the narrator shares, illustration that the scars make up who she is even though she has forgotten the details of the faces of the perpetrators, which in itself may be a fallacy or a willful denial.
Out of True by Amy Durant is an emotional and insightful look at life’s travails and the decision to persevere and journey onward. Durant’s debut poetry collection has a unique voice that highlights the harsh realities of life and love, but also the beauty of struggle and how it makes us not only who we become, but more than what we are. Letting go is a must in this life, but also there must be a semblance of acceptance in order for humans to enjoy their lives, find joy, and evolve.
***Stay tuned tomorrow for an Amy Durant reading and giveaway***
About the Poet:
Amy Durant is a writer living in the Capital District of New York. She blogs frequently at her own site, Lucy’s Football, about far less serious things than this, and is lucky enough to write for Insatiable Booksluts about all things bookish. She is the artistic director for one of the many wonderful community theaters in her area and lives with a very cuddly but very spatially-impaired Siamese cat. Her book, Out of True, was published by Luna Station Press in August 2012.
This is the 20th book for my 2012 Fearless Poetry Exploration Reading Challenge.
This is my 75th book for the New Authors Reading Challenge in 2012.
Sally Smith O’Rourke is the author of Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen and The Man Who Loved Jane Austen, which unravel the mysteries of the true Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and offer modern day readers a bit of time travel through antiques, forgotten letters, and more.
Today, she’s stopping by to talk a little bit about her books and her writing as the 200th anniversary of Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen comes in 2013.
Please give her a warm welcome.
In spite of the fact that my name alone appears on the cover, The Man Who Loved Jane Austen was, in truth, very much a collaboration with my late husband F. Michael O’Rourke. Kelly, my step-daughter called us an awesome team and we were, in all respects; our life together was a true collaboration. Many projects came out of that collaboration among them two feature films, a few television pilots and several books including Christmas at Sea Pines Cottage, The Maidenstone Lighthouse and, of course, The Man Who Loved Jane Austen.
The road to The Man Who Loved Jane Austen was rather circuitous and, I’m afraid, not particularly romantic even though Mike called it the ultimate valentine because it was brought to life by the love we had for each other.
Technically, I suppose that road began when I was fifteen years old and read Pride and Prejudice, enjoying it thoroughly. One Sunday afternoon a very disappointing film version of it was on television. Greer Garson and Laurence Olivier were much too old to be playing the 20 year old Elizabeth and the 28 year old Darcy but changing the story was entirely unacceptable to my youthful psyche (and my adult psyche). It was my first taste of what Hollywood can and often does do to novels. After that I watched every version of the story but never found one worthy of the book. Then in 1995, as all of you know, the ultimate Pride and Prejudice was produced. A&E along with the BBC did the Andrew Davies/Simon Langton/Sue Britwistle mini-series, staring Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. FINALLY a wonderful portrayal of the classic novel.
Moving on to late 1999, the health department recommended that Mike and I vacate our home because of toxic mold, requiring us to leave most of our belongings in the contaminated house. After a few months in a hotel it felt like we never talked or thought about anything but the mold and the pending law suit; our life had seemingly come to a screeching halt. In an attempt to, at the very least, not think about it all the time, we sat down and watched the six hour Pride and Prejudice; in its entirety. It worked; we stopped obsessing about the house and, in fact, the marathon inspired me to read all of Jane Austen’s books.
For some reason I had never noticed that there is a theme in all her writings, maybe it was because I’d never read them one after the other but this time I did and found that she made every heroine strong, relatively independent and quite intelligent; not completely unusual in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries however in most fiction women were victims. What made Austen different was not only the strong women but the men who loved them for that strength. It made me want to know more about her, why in an era where women were basically chattel did she feel free enough to write such stories. After delving into her life by reading several biographies, I came to believe she wrote Elizabeth Bennet and the others, in large part, because her father and brothers were fairly opened minded and that their support and strong belief in her talent was at the center of her success.
Another thing that struck me, particularly in Pride and Prejudice was Darcy’s ability to look at himself, be dissatisfied and make a concerted effort to reverse his attitudes because as he said after Elizabeth accepts his second proposal, “You shewed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.” To me Darcy felt more like a modern man than a Regency aristocrat.
When Mike suggested that we start a new project by resurrecting a time travel story I had started some time before. I countered that rather than write about a twenty-first century woman who goes into the future we write about a twenty-first century man who falls back into the England of 1810 and becomes Jane Austen’s muse and perhaps one of the most quixotic heroes ever written; Fitzwilliam Darcy.
We considered many scenarios before settling on Darcy being the wealthy owner of a two hundred year old Virginia horse breeding estate, Pemberley Farms. The back story we created for his ancestors, was touched on when Eliza is presented to the guests at Darcy’s Rose Ball.
I know that many people consider love stories better if they end unhappily, if not tragically (A Walk to Remember; The Way We Were; Gone With The Wind) but I prefer a happy ending, therefore a modern woman had to be able to compete with Jane Austen. New York artist Eliza Knight does just that.
We discussed making Eliza a poor, struggling artist then decided that we didn’t want it to be a ‘Cinderella’ story; you know, rich guy falls for poor girl and they live happily ever after. So she became a relatively successful artist of fantasy drawings that are used on greeting cards, stationary as well as prints. That success allows her to buy an antique vanity and it is behind the vanity’s mirror that she discovers letters to and from Jane Austen and Fitzwilliam Darcy, triggering the story.
After completing the manuscript, we type-set, printed and hand bound copies to give as gifts to family and friends. It was received with spirited enthusiasm and Mike and I were proud of our nice little story. Then my world crashed, in November 2001, two weeks before his sixtieth birthday Mike died suddenly; we hadn’t gotten out of the house soon enough.
The Man Who Loved Jane Austen was published in 2006. The publisher didn’t want two names on the cover and preferred the one be mine since I would be doing the promotion. I regret not insisting that Mike’s name be used on the cover as a tribute to him. But regret serves no useful purpose and at least his work is being enjoyed by people all over the world.
I’ve always thought it odd that no journal or diary kept by Jane Austen has survived so I started what was going to be a fun little project, to create a journal that would be Jane’s perspective of spring 1810 when she met the American Darcy. At the end of one journal entry she writes, “I wonder what Mr. Darcy is doing at this moment”. I left off doing the journal and began writing what Mr. Darcy was doing and suddenly the continuation of The Man Who Loved Jane Austen came into existence.
Besides who was I to try and write as if I was Jane Austen? Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen is no longer a journal but it does reacquaint readers with 21st century American horseman Fitzwilliam Darcy and his influence on the English novelist and her writings; at the same time delving into the complex nature of the man who became the embodiment of one of the most romantic characters in English literature.
The blossoming romance between Fitzwilliam Darcy and Eliza Knight, the modern-day woman who gave Darcy the letters proving that he did make a trip through time and met Jane Austen, is juxtaposed with Jane’s life as she copes with the subtle celebrity of being the ‘Lady’ who wrote Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice.
In celebration of the coming 200th anniversary of Pride and Prejudice and in tribute to the iconic author Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen is now available in eBook formats from Amazon for Kindle and Smashwords.com for all other eReader formats. In tribute to Michael, Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen will be released in print November 29th, his birthday.
Austenticity.com, the website where Eliza first discovers that Fitzwilliam Darcy is real is also real. The everything Austen site is a good place to go for a visit and to spend a bit of time with the inimitable and beloved Jane Austen.
I also have a blog at sallysmithorourke.com where I will be posting the progress of my next novel, Physician, Heal Thyself.
Thanks, Sally for sharing your writing and inspiration with us.
About the Author:
Sally Smith O’Rourke lives in the Victorian village of Monrovia, California, close to her job in a local hospital where she spends most of her daylight hours in the operating room as a scrub nurse. She was widowed some time ago, and has very domestic hobbies like sewing, cooking, baking, candy making, and cake decorating. And she writes. Catch her on her blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, and her Website.
Here’s an additional treat for you, an excerpt from Chapter 5 of Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen:
Although the sun was fully up in the Virginia summer sky, it was not yet hot. Fitz found jumping exhilarating; the cool morning air caressing his face, and Lord Nelson, so strong and graceful, took all the jumps with no effort.
Heritage Week was over so things could get back to normal. He shrugged. Whatever normal is. He realized there was a very good chance that his normal was about to change radically. Eliza’s letter—the one she had found written to him from Jane—had ended his search for the truth of his Regency encounter. But Eliza did much more than give him the letter.
He had been merely surviving, not living, in the years since his mother’s death. He’d thrown himself into the business of Pemberley Farms to the exclusion of almost everything else. Eliza’s arrival had heralded an acute awareness of that fact. It was as though a light was suddenly shining so he could see the world around him. She made him want to live again. And she had given him the letter… Jane’s letter.
Fitz reined Lord Nelson to a walk as they entered the cool shade of the woods on the edge of his property.
Jane. He had spent more than three years seeking proof of his meeting with her and of her feelings for him. Almost as if he’d been transported again back to Chawton in 1810, the image of Jane’s sweet face flooded his mind. He thought back to that morning and his inauspicious entrance into Jane Austen’s life.
The combination of his head injury and the laudanum prescribed by Mr. Hudson, the Austen family physician, caused Darcy to slip in and out of consciousness. He tried to sit up, the effort making him dizzy.
Jane gently laid a hand on his chest. “Please, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hudson wants you to remain still.”
Through a cotton mouth, his head spinning, Darcy asked, “Mr. Hudson?”
“The doctor,” Jane said. “You must rest now Mr. Darcy.” The American looked at her face. Her curiosity was palpable even in his drugged state. Unable to think clearly, never mind responding to questions he wasn’t sure he could answer, he closed his eyes completely and turned his head away.
Jane returned to her vanity table where she continued to write; a single candle and the flames in the fireplace her only light. Interrupted in her writing by a low murmur from Darcy, she took the candle and quietly approached the bed. He was tossing back and forth, his face flushed and contorted; he was speaking in quiet tones, a hodgepodge of words that meant nothing to her. He spoke what she could only suppose were the nonsensical ramblings of a sick brain; she attributed words like television and jet to his head injury and delirium. She placed her hand softly on his cheek and was distressed by the heat radiating from him. Using fresh linen soaked in water from the pitcher on her wash stand, Jane swabbed his face and neck, then laid it across his forehead. It seemed to calm him and she went back to her writing.
Each time he grew restless Jane stopped writing and went to the bed to refresh the linen with cool water. After three episodes in close succession she remained on the edge of the bed so she was at hand, and each time he started to toss and turn she would caress his face and neck with the cool, damp linen in hopes that it would, in time, reduce his fever.
She stayed there until Darcy’s features turned placid and he was breathing more evenly. He finally seemed to be sleeping comfortably. She laid her small, soft hand on his cheek. The fever was broken. She dropped the cloth into the basin. Stiff from sitting in one position for so long without support, she stood up and stretched. She was not particularly tired but needed to get some rest.
Quietly she crossed the wooden floor and slipped the small pages of writing she was working on into the drawer of the vanity, then took a nightgown from the closet next to the fireplace. Glancing back at the bed she stepped behind the screen.
He opened his eyes just enough to see her slender, full-breasted figure silhouetted on the muslin screen, back-lit by the remnants of the fire as the light fabric of her nightgown floated down to envelope her.
Jane stopped at the bed before making her way to Cassandra’s room for a few hours of sleep. As she stood over him he watched surreptitiously through the veil of his eyelashes. She leaned down and whispered, “Good night, Mr. Darcy,” almost brushing his lips with her own. In spite of his continuing laudanum haze, he could see that her eyes were filled with a tenderness that caused him to grab her hand as she straightened up; he didn’t want her to go.
Without opening his eyes or letting go of her hand he said, “Please don’t leave me.”
